Progeny
by trufflemores
Summary: The cat's out of the bag: Dawn's their kid.


"Hey, Mo- my keys!" Dawn yelps, tossing her keys onto the floor. "Hi, sorry, excuse me, I'll just-" Laughing nervously, Dawn sweeps them up in a hand, straightening and promptly knocking the "I got lattes!" greeting off Dad's tongue.

She feels the familiar siren call of Speed Force and unconsciously slows down to match it, her heart aching in her chest as she sees Dad steadying the cups. "You're really good at that," she blurts out.

Dad's grip on the lattes goes slack again, and Dawn sweeps forward with a nervous, "Here, I'll just." Grabbing the slowly-falling cups, she sets them on the table. "Hi. Sorry. Sorry, I should have - this was a bad way to start this."

Dad stares, face grey. "Wh-who are you?"

She bites her cheek. "I'm, uh. A friend," she says, and it's not entirely untrue. She remembers Dad carrying her on his shoulders when she was young. His promised strength never failed her, and it makes something tighten in her chest to see him now. _You promised you'd come home. You've gotta come home_. But she can't take this version of her dad - he's still too young, doesn't know. And she can't tell him what's coming. Thrusting out a hand, she adds, "Call me ... Call me Dawn."

He lets his gaze rest on her hand for a moment before he takes it, and she knows her cover is blown instantly when she feels that deep hum. Like a storm is coming. _You can hear that?_ he'd asked her, amazed, while her seven-year-old self nodded, swinging her feet underneath her as she sat on the swing, waiting for him. It'd been days, but she knew - she just _knew_ he was coming here. And he did. It always preceded him, like a rumble of thunder. It was the wrong order - lightning preceded thunder, not the other way around - but she didn't care. It was the Speed Force, and it was Dad's Speed Force.

She can't help it, throwing herself forward, hugging him tightly. Almost unconsciously, he lifts a hand, cradling the base of her skull, hugging her to him and whispering, "I know you..." Like she is a wonder. "How?"

"It's me, Dad," she dares to say, voice cracking on the word. "It's your little girl."

He draws in a shuddering breath, still holding onto her, and rests his chin on her head. Something deep and familiar emerges in his voice as he asks, "Why come here?"

She bites her lip. "I can't say," she apologizes.

He nods, already forgiving it, and she missed him so much, tears pool in her own eyes. "I'm sorry," she adds anyway, because he always told her time travel was dangerous, but then Donny ran away, and Dad went after him, and only Donny came back.

"Hey, no, no, shh, it's okay," he promises, hugging her tightly. "It's okay." Daring to pull back, to look at her, he smiles big, real big, like it's finally sinking in. "Dawn," he says to himself, and she can't help a mirroring smile. "A daughter." Freeing a hand, he rubs his mouth, and she sees tears in his eyes. "Wow."

"I - I wanted to see you," she admits.

Something heartbreaking knits his brows, like he already knows the full story. Standing in the rain, howling in mixed fury and grief, her brother's name: _Donny!_ He'd disappeared, then, and she'd stared at the place where he'd been, and barely a blink passed before Donny suddenly appeared, breathless and wild-haired and absolutely ashen. _Where's Dad?_ she'd asked.

And Donny just shook his head, and said frantically, _I don't know, he - he was right there - I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

Pushing down the emotion - God, she can't cry or she'll never stop - she tells him, "You're still alive, where I'm from." Something - sharp, nestles in her ribcage, and she almost can't breathe for the surprise. _I didn't just kill him_ , she comforts herself, but she can't help but take the sudden tightness in her chest otherwise. "I just - I wanted to see you," she finishes helplessly, stepping forward again, hugging him again.

He rubs her back, slowly, comprehension finally sinking in. Squeezing gently, he whispers, "I promise I'll come home."

 _You always do,_ Dawn thinks, and knows that someday, _someday_ , he won't make it. But she nods against his shoulder, daring to believe in that strength, and finally steps back again. The world around them hasn't budged. She loves that about the Speed Force; they could be here for hours, days, years, and still the world around them would not age. But they can't stay here - because the rest of the world only lives out there.

"I was afraid I'd break the time continuum if I told anyone," she admits. "But..." Looking around, she chances a tiny smile. "Seems okay?"

Dad nods once. He inhales deeply and exhales very slowly. Everything in Speed time is slow. It's her favorite thing about it. At last, he says, "We'll keep you safe."

"I'm fast," Dawn warns teasingly, "like you. Think you can keep up?"

He smiles. There's something sad in his eyes - yet the Speed Force around him radiates pure joy. It warms her like nothing has in these last - God, how long has it been? Six months?

"We have to tell them," he says, nodding at Mom.

Dawn sucks in a deep breath and nods. "I trust you," she says, and he pulls her into another hug she gladly reciprocates, holding on tightly even as the world begins to beat faster, slowly, timpanically, until she lets go.

Then they're back, and Mom is asking Dad if he's okay, and he's nodding and saying in a low voice for them only, "We need to go."

Mom's brow furrows in worry, but she nods compliantly. Dad sets the abandoned, still steaming lattes down on Uncle Cisco's table nearby - "present," is all he says, and Uncle Cisco grins and salutes him with one - before they weave outside, disappearing around a corner before - there it is again, like thunder, a low, deep rumble, and Dawn barely needs to inhale to find the right Speed.

Dad seems slightly disappointed that Mom is still frozen in time, but he doesn't make much of it, sweeping her easily off her feet. "Sure you can keep up?" he asks Dawn, eyes alight with yellow light, and Dawn nods once fiercely.

And then they're gone, and it's like magic, running alongside him, propelled effortlessly by the Speed Force, and it isn't fighting her at all, no resistance, no effort, and she wonders if she's been running wrong all her life. She lets the thought go, slowing down when he does on a familiar porch - _Paw Paw_ , she thinks, and tears mist her eyes as Dad sets Mom down and the world clicks back into real time.

Mom doesn't wait for Dad to say anything, just pushes the door open anxiously, and relaxes once she sees Uncle Wally and Paw Paw sitting on the floor and couch, respectively, playing cards on the coffee table. Dad follows her, and Dawn trails after, politely shutting the door behind them. "Hey, kids," Paw Paw greets, looking up. "Who's this?" he asks, gaze fixing on Dawn immediately.

"Is Cecile around?" Dad asks instead.

Dawn hides half-behind him, very aware of Paw Paw's gaze on her. She averts her eyes, anxious to reveal herself and still anxious to keep it a secret, as Paw Paw calls out, "Cecile?"

"Yes?" she appears around the corner Dawn knows leads into the kitchen, a cookie in hand. She lifts both eyebrows when she sees Dawn. "I didn't know we were expecting company," she says, half-accusingly, half-teasingly, as she enters the room fully.

"What's going on?" Uncle Wally finally asks warily.

"This, uh." Dad gesticulates helplessly. "This is - this is Dawn," he says, and she stays behind his shoulder, weighing the heaviness in the room and deeming the wall of his self in front of her valid. "She's - she's my - _our_ ," he adds emphatically, looking at Mom, "our ... daughter. From the future," he surmises, spinning around to face her, and Dawn nods, resisting the urge to duck behind him again.

"Daughter," Paw Paw repeats.

"Wow," Uncle Wally summarizes.

"Dawn," Mom breathes, and Dawn finally sidles a step to the right so she isn't hiding behind Dad. She smiles sheepishly, aching because - God, she missed Mom. She stays frozen in place, unable to reach out, terrified of rejection, but she needn't worry - scarcely a beat passes before Mom steps forward and hugs her. "Oh my God," she breathes, and Dawn has to close her eyes so she doesn't cry.

Dad doesn't stray from them as he fields the inevitable questions until Dawn finally pulls back. She's so warm, so - _happy_ , for the first time in a long time. Mom keeps a hand on her arm lightly, like she can't bear to let go. She aches to simply come home, to stay here and never worry again about Dad coming home and Mom's devastation when she finds out what happened. Has Donny told her? It makes something awful form in Dawn's chest, dark and festering. What if Donny never told her? What if something happened to him, and Mom still doesn't know where Donny went, or Dad went, or Dawn -

No. She'll come home - she will. And so will Dad. She has to believe Donny is already there, can't stand the thought that whatever happened to Dad was in vain. "What brings you to 2018?" Uncle Wally asks brightly, stepping forward and hesitating before holding out his arms for a hug instead of a handshake. Dawn gratefully steps into them.

"I can't say," she admits.

He squeezes her once, accepting it, before letting her go. "Welcome to the family," is all he says.

Dawn has the irrational urge to ask him if he'll find Dad, but it's a ridiculous question because Dad's right here - it's _her_ Dad that's gone, the future one, and she has to hope that her future Uncle Wally is just as motivated as she is to find him. Maybe he already has. The thought warms and saddens her. _I_ _have to get home_ , she realizes, and unconsciously reaches forward to tangle a hand in the back of Dad's shirt, holding on like she did when she was just a little one trailing after him, refusing to let him go. _Dad_ _might never come back_ , whispers a soft, terrible voice, but she silences it, refusing to let it out into the world. As long as she never speaks it, it will never be true.

"A grandbaby," Paw Paw says, and Dawn smiles when she hears it, leaning up on tiptoe to see over Dad's shoulder rather than stepping around him. "She's definitely your kid," he adds fondly, and Dawn blushes, sinking back down and releasing Dad's shirt. "Used to trail me like a mother duck, you did," he adds, pointing at Dad.

Stepping around him, Dawn asks brightly, "He did?"

Dad makes an agreeing sound, and Paw Paw finally laughs and stands up. "I've got video," he says with a wry twinkle in his eye, sauntering forward. "But first -" Holding out his arms, he adds, "C'mere."

"I wanna see that video," Cecile adds, amused, as she claims his seat on the couch, Uncle Wally hopping onto the space next to her. God, Dawn just - she clutches Paw Paw's back, because she _missed_ this, missed them, her family. A timer goes off and Cecile says, "Oh, that's the next-"

Uncle Wally disappears, his own lightning silent to Dawn, it's so fast, and then he reappears with a handful of cookies, smiling. "Batch?" he finishes, tapping one of his cookies against Cecile's in a toast.

Paw Paw releases her and growls warningly, "You eat 'em all-"

"I'm buying the next batch," Uncle Wally finishes, stuffing a cookie into his mouth. "Yup."

Dawn tucks a hand unconsciously in Dad's shirt before releasing it, telling herself to cool it - she's not their kid, not yet, she's not even _born_ yet, but when Mom wraps an arm around her and squeezes, Dad's lightning close enough she feels it without touching him at all, she wants to be theirs again.

Paw Paw finds that home video before reclaiming his place beside Cecile, and Dad sits on the floor next to Uncle Wally while Mom and Dawn share a chair, Dawn on the arm and Mom on the cushion, regal and effortlessly at ease.

And this, Dawn thinks, grinning ear-to-ear as she watches Dad stumble along behind Paw Paw, Paw Paw all dressed out in his police uniform. A man she doesn't recognize must be filming it, because he comments, "Careful, Detective, you've got a little white shadow."

"Understood, Captain," Paw Paw replies, while Dad shies behind him.

"Your kid," Paw Paw adds in real time, nodding at Dad, hands knitted behind his arm.

"Our kid," Dad corrects, reaching up to squeeze Mom's ankle. She ruffles his hair fondly, and Dawn loves them so much it hurts because, honestly?

They're like stupid in love.


End file.
